


Missing

by scheherezhad



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dark, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherezhad/pseuds/scheherezhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took until Tuesday for William to suspect something was truly wrong.  He hadn't seen Grell Sutcliff in several days, and now he was tasked with finding out where she'd gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for archadianskies, who gave me an interesting and challenging horror prompt. Prompt text is in the end notes to avoid spoilers, so mind the warnings and tags at least.
> 
> I like the song "Tiny Little Flashlights" by Darren Hayes for this story. The mood is quite different, but some of the lyrics feel appropriate in metaphorical/symbolic ways.

It took until Tuesday for William to suspect something was truly wrong. He hadn't seen Sutcliff since Friday, and while it wasn't uncommon for her to disappear for a few days here and there, he had almost never known her to miss a Monday morning and the chance to catch up on gossip from the weekend. He redistributed her reaps, wrote a formal reprimand, and almost immediately received an order to find her and bring her in. Upper management could not abide by another Jack the Ripper incident. First Grell Sutcliff, then Eric Slingby, and now perhaps Sutcliff again. Each incident another black mark on William's once spotless record.

William stopped round the field agents bullpen and inquired as to whether anyone else had seen Sutcliff in the past few days. No one had, and he heard no fewer than three muttered remarks to the effect of how much easier it had been to get work done without her around. He made sure to note who had spoken. Honestly... If their work was so much easier, they should have no trouble taking on Sutcliff's assignments while she was gone.

Even Ronald Knox hadn't seen her.

"She was gonna have me escort her to some shops in London yesterday, was all excited over it last week," he said, brow knotting. "You know she'd never miss out on something like that, boss."

She wouldn't, and it sat uneasily with him. He examined her office, though he didn't find anything or particularly expect to. Sutcliff hated desk work and spent as little time there as she could manage.

William wasn't pleased with having to work overtime, but Grell Sutcliff could not be left unaccounted for. He would start with her own flat, to which she had given him (forced on him) a key several decades ago.

"So you can come and go as you please," she'd said, pressing it into his palm. "Or come and _come_."

"I've no intentions of entering your home, Grell Sutcliff."

She'd looked away for an instant before giving him a smile. "Oh, Will, it's only a place to live. It's not a home without you."

Entering her flat now was the first time he'd used the key, though not the first time he'd been in the flat. A cursory glance around the sitting room and kitchen showed nothing suspicious or out of place. It never failed to surprise him that she kept her rooms so neat, but she had told him once that a lady never greeted visitors with disorganization.

When William pushed open the door to her bedroom, a cloud of her signature rose perfume enveloped him. Here, it was a bit messier. Dresses and costumes spilled from the open wardrobe, jewelry and makeup covered the vanity, shoes littered the floor. Her bed was half-made, a red silk dressing gown draped across the footboard.

A photograph of him sat on the nightstand in an ornate little frame. He remembered the day she had taken it with that human camera contraption. He'd been sat at his desk, reviewing paperwork, when he heard a strange noise from the doorway. Sutcliff had been standing there, cradling the camera and grinning.

"What have you done?" he'd asked.

"Nothing to worry about, darling. You just looked so handsome, I wanted to preserve it."

Having found nothing of use in the flat, William locked up behind himself and left. His next tactic was to make the rounds of the reaper establishments that she frequented. It proved a fruitless search, as well, however. None of the bartenders, waiters, or shop clerks had seen her, either.

It was late by the time he finished, having exhausted every possible lead he could think of on their own plane and come up with nothing. He would have to search the mortal realm.

 

Wednesday morning rolled around, and William felt like he had had next to no sleep. His head ached, and fragments of distressed dreams clung to the edges of his mind. He couldn't piece together what the images meant, and they faded away until all he could recall as he dressed was a splay of long, red hair on the ground.

He spent three days scouring London. He visited all manner of businesses, combed through Whitechapel, walked every inch of the city's hospitals and morgues. He even checked the former residences of the late Angelina Durless on the chance that Sutcliff had taken to wallowing in belated regret. Still, he turned up nothing, and he sent only perfunctory responses to his superiors' inquires into his progress.

At night, he dreamed of red. Fire and blood and painted lips jumbled together, as if his own cinematic record had warped and twisted, fusing memory with want with fear. Grell writhing with pleasure under him became Grell limp and wounded after he fished her from the cold Atlantic. The fiery aftermath of a circus dimmed into candles flickering beside her bed as she sank down hot and tight around his cock. Her hair spread over the pillows became a puddle of blood oozing across a stone floor. Each time, he woke half-hard and half sick.

It was with great effort that he acknowledged to himself that his last resort had become necessary.

The next evening found him at the edge of the Phantomhive property, scythe tucked tight against his side. He had only to take a step into that demon's territory before it appeared, bland smile on its lips.

"To what does my master owe the pleasure of your visit this time, sir?" it asked.

"Tell me when you last saw Grell Sutcliff."

"It's been over a week since he was last here," it said, ever so slightly stressing the pronoun. Its smile grew a fraction sharper. "Have you lost your hold on his leash again? Or is it that someone has lost their hold on yours?"

William's eyebrow twitched. 

"Is that all, reaper? I'm afraid I must return to my duties if you have no more need of me."

William didn't bother answering. He returned to his own plane, impatient to wash away the oily feeling the demon's gaze left on him. Letting the hot water pound over his shoulders in the shower, he couldn't stop his mind turning over what that demon had said. The implication that William was some sort of lost pup--or perhaps a mindless beast--nagged at him.

Falling asleep that night took far too long.

 

She was simpering at that demon, clinging to his arm and speaking too close to its ear in low tones, and it was _allowing_ her. William gritted his teeth. He extended his scythe, the jaws narrowly missing the demon as he dodged and instead clipping Grell in the shoulder. Grell whipped around with a scowl on her face that melted into a pout when she saw William.

"Will, darling, that was an awfully rude thing to do to a lady," she said. The red on her white sleeve bloomed, blood pouring fast down her arm and dripping on the floor, more blood than a body could hold, a lake of it under his feet--

 

William shot up in the bed, gasping. He had to throw back the blankets to assure himself that the sensation of blood soaked into the bottoms of his trousers was only a remnant of the nightmare. His pyjamas were clean, if a bit sweat-damp, and he fell back to the pillows. It had been years since he had had such vivid nightmares.

Turning onto his side, William reached for the drawer of his nightstand and slid it open. He should still have a few pills left, the ones he'd been prescribed for when he became overstressed and the fragments of Thomas Wallis's cinematic record buried in his mind clawed their way to the surface. Without his glasses on, he had to search for them mostly by feel, groping for the cool plastic of the bottle.

Instead, his hand met with metal and glass and something slithering along the wood. William held his breath and closed his fingers around the object, lifting it out. He didn't even have to bring it closer to know that shade of red, to know the drape of that chain, to be entirely sure he was holding Grell Sutcliff's glasses.

His gut churned so hard he was surprised he didn't vomit. The pieces of his dreams began to make more sense as he stared down at the familiar frames. A week before she'd gone missing, he'd taken her to dinner, finally giving in to her advances and the attraction to her he'd steadfastly repressed since they were students.

She had invited him home with her that night. (She had been right back at the Phantomhive estate within days.)

She'd pulled him inside by his tie-- (He'd dragged her away by her hair--)

\--and kissed him breathless against the door-- (--and wrapped a hand around her throat--)

\--before sinking to her knees in front of him. (--before throwing her to the floor.)

"You're all I've ever wanted," she'd said as she pulled him on top of her on the bed. ("You're still panting after that demon," he'd said as she pulled at his hands, trying to break his grip.)

She'd thrown her head back and cried out in pleasure. (He'd dashed her head against the floor and heard her choke out a faint mewl of pain.)

She'd held him tight-- (He'd held her down--)

\--and whispered his name when he stilled. (--and whispered her name when she stilled.)

He'd loved her. He'd loved her. He'd...loved...her.

William didn't know how much time he spent lying numbly in his bed. He was only dimly aware of going along when his door was broken down and he was placed under arrest for the murder of a fellow reaper. His only thought was for the faint red pulse deep in his chest, a soul tucked away for safe-keeping now breaking through its wards.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "William ala Silent Hill 2- he snaps one day and murders Grell whilst disciplining her, and then completely suppresses the incident. He then tries to solve the mystery of why Grell is missing."


End file.
